Inside Out Carl Grimes x OMC
by westerlo4
Summary: Tim and his sister Alice must find a way to survive in the zombie apocalypse, but that has been proven to be not so easy. During their struggle for survival they meet new people who will change their lives forever...


**Chapter 1: In and out**

"Would you just shut up for a second?!" I yell at her, remarking that my shouts might attract them too. I lower my voice to something just above a whisper. "You're gonna get us killed". The blood in my countless veins, still boiling with anger, partially because of her ignorance, but also because of my own stupidity. But if my blood was boiling, hers was already evaporated.

"Well that makes two of us then!" She yells back, louder than ever before. Furiosity fills her widened eyes. Her iris is practically on fire and her look could easily split me apart right here, right now.

I fail to remain calm and end up shouting at her again. "What should I have done then?! Get bitten?!" I can't believe how she's acting like this! After everything that just happened! As if I meant for this to happen!

"If that'd mean that we wouldn't be in this situation right now, then yes, gladly," she blurts out with a frown on her face.

"Well _thanks_, sis'," I bark back at her, rolling my eyes in the process.

I can't take this anymore! Ugh... This would be an appropriate moment to scream in a pillow until I'm calmed down like in those cliché films, but regrettably, we don't have any time for that. We don't have any time at all and she doesn't seem to realise that. She keeps on yelling until her throat hurts, peace at last... It's not even my fault. I mean… I did use my gun, yes – but I had no other choice, did I? I'm not even sure if I want to know the answer anymore, it's not going to help us to get out of this shitpile of a farm house! It's not all just magically going to go away now! It's not going to bring her back!... We were just looking for food and suddenly I heard a loud scream. A – A roamer was... I couldn't do anything, I was paralyzed. But I was too late anyway... Then, it came for me. I couldn't – I couldn't move and the roamer... It came for me but I stood still. It pushed me to the ground and I – I shot it through its mouth... But I was too late... I can't keep myself from thinking about it all the time. I look at Alice and see that she's buried her face in her hands. I hear her, heaving softly into her palms, holding back tears. I'm struggling to hold them back too, now. It's all my fault... My teeth start to throb and purse my lips. I shed a tear, but immediately wipe it off of my cheek. There's no time to mourn, not anymore. Alice lowers her hands and reveals her face. Tears roll down her cheek, onto her chin, to then drop to the floor. She walks towards the bedroom, where... She doesn't give me one glance, not one second of eye contact.

"Alice, you shouldn't see h-" I try to say, although I know that she won't listen to me. She stops and examines the wooden floor.

"Just _don't_," she whispers, before heading in.

I burst into tears and turn around to face the wall behind me.

"Fuck!" I exclaim as I kick it, putting minimal effort in raising my leg. It's probably painful, but I can't feel it. I can only feel one big cluster of pain, from everything we've been through for the past year. But we still have to move on, we still have to get out of this. I stumble over to the window in the middle of the wall while wiping tears from my face. We're on the first floor, so it should give us a good view of the surroundings. I cautiously push the curtain out of my way and mentally prepare myself for whatever might be out there by now.

I see _them_, everywhere. One, two, three, …, twenty, twenty-one. Shit! We need to get out of here. But how? We can't just run through them! I need – I – I need to think, but I can't – I – I can't – I can't breathe. My throat begins to feel dry and achy. I look at my hands, they're shaking. I don't feel them shake. I don't feel anything, expect for the increasing weight of my body on my legs. I wheeze, my breaths hurt and feel dry and cold. It's like something's blocking the way to my lungs, but I know that there isn't. I know exactly what this is, something I learnt to hate my body for. My legs are about to fail on me, so I try to support myself by leaning against the wall, but it doesn't help much. I wheeze louder and faster than before. My body tenses up and it becomes harder to breathe, I begin to hyperventilate. I vaguely hear something behind me, I can't make sense of what it is, but it sounds like it's miles away. My ears pop, as if they're bleeding or falling off. I cough constantly, as if I were choking on something. I feel something, a weight on my shoulders, just physically too, this time. The sudden force makes me aware of the heat I'm experiencing. My body – it feels like I'm melting. I clumsily remove my coat and sweater – even though it's about 5 degrees Celsius inside – and throw them onto the floor. That's what I think at least, I can't feel anything anymore except for the warmth and weight on my legs. I feel... water? No it can't be water, everything's frozen already. Yet I still feel soaked... I'm sweating, excessively... Generalised hyperhidrosis, the state in which the body tries to reduce the excess of warmth by excessive sweating all around the body, but it doesn't work, I... I hear whispers from the shadows in the purple light that's slowly spreading across my vision.

"... you ... inhaler... klootzak". I startle at the sudden Dutch swear. It's Alice! Alice is whispering at me, or is it shouting? You know that she's being dead serious when she cusses in Dutch. I mean, it's not like it's not our mother's tongue, but we just haven't talked in it anymore. Mum wanted us to talk in English, to practise for if we'd ever find a group someday. We did avoid human contact, but it became a habit nonetheless. Anyway, Alice said something... _inhaler_. That's it! I need – I need to get my inhaler. Where is the damned thing?! Where is my inhaler? Left pocket? I try to force my hand into my left pocket and grabble. Nothing! For fuck's sake! Okay, focus, Tim, focus! Right pocket, where is it? I accidently rush my hand against my pair of jeans, causing it to heat up a bit, although it feels like it just fell off. I can barely feel it anymore, but manage to stick it into my other pocket anyway. Last chance... Is that – yes! I've got it! My hand shakes as I get my inhaler out of my pocket and bring its lower part to my mouth. Come on, put it in! The purple sparkles fill my line of sight. I don't know whether my eyes or still open or not, I might be too late already. Blinded, I clumsily remove the lid of my inhaler and seal my lips around the part that sticks out. Please don't let it be empty! With the last bits of energy I've got left, I press the container down; unleashing a cold, untasteful bundle of Ventolin into my mouth that quickly forces itself through my trachea, into my lungs. I cough and gag at the taste of my medicine. Suddenly, I don't feel anything anymore. I open my eyes, welcomed by the familiar sparkles, but they quickly fade away into the bits of Hell they came from. I see a silhouette, something above me. My head throbs and I wince in pain, my back doesn't feel much better either. I must've hit the wall while passing out. I'm still wheezing, but less than before. As my brain starts to reconquer my vision, I see my features in the silhouette. It's Alice again. She looks... I don't know how she looks. Her face shows a mixture of worry, anger and sadness. Something fancy men in costumes would call "psychologically instable", before shit hit the fan.

"Open your mouth, God dammit!" Alice yells. I now see that she's bringing something closer to me. My damned inhaler! Too weak to say anything in response, I just open my mouth slightly and she forces the object through my partially parted lips.  
>"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," She counts, before unleashing another load of Ventolin into my respiratory system.<br>Normally, I'd have to sit down for a couple of minutes, but we weren't living in an apocalypse back when those rules applied. We weren't surrounded by the _fucking DEAD TRYING TO EAT US_. How crazy does that even sound? They would've thrown me in some kind of clinic for the mentally insane if I'd said that before. I wouldn't say that anyone _is _completely sane these day though.

I'm slowly starting to regain strength throughout my body. I can feel again and I feel – I feel soaked. I _am _soaked. My shirt has practically been glued onto my back, refusing to let go of it. I choose to ignore it and try to make my way up again, supporting myself with my side pushed against the wall. I feel a touch on my shoulder and on my back. I look back and see that Alice is trying to keep me from standing up.  
>"You need to sit down for a moment!" She shouts at me with the same anger from 15 minutes ago.<br>I push her away, almost stumbling over my feet, I but manage to keep my balance.  
>"I need to take a look for fuck's sake! We've got more urgent issues than my wellbeing! Startin' with <em>our<em> wellbeing!" I bark.  
>I can't see her reaction, but knowing Alice, she's probably mentally gauging my eyes out. I turn back to the window and push the curtain aside with my hand once again, supporting myself against the wall with the other. I see them again, but something changed. There' even more and they're surrounding the house now, as if we didn't have enough problems already. I observe one of them as it runs into a window on the ground floor. It changes its strategy and tries to scratch it out, only causing its decaying fingers to get disjointed and fall off afterwards. Several other roamers hear the sound it's making and head towards it. Shivers run down my spine as I realise that we might not get out of this place in one piece, or get out at all. I shake my head, as if that's going to help me to get rid of those thoughts and try to think clearly. There's obviously too many roamers to just run through. Okay, what do I see beside the undead? Some bare trees, broken fences in the distance, a lot of snow, a well filled with what's probably ice by now and – what's that in the corner of my eye? Adrenaline fills my weak body as I get a better look at the structure in my peripheral vision. A barn! Maybe there are horses in there or something useful at least. Heck, I'd ride a cow if that would mean that we would be getting out of here! My excitement quickly makes place for even more worries. My plan obviously isn't flawless, we could get stuck in there if we can't find anything of use. But it's still the best shot we've got at leaving this cursed place. Horses, cows, goats even! Anything's faster than us – especially now that we haven't eaten properly in the past 24 hours. But what if whatever's in there already starved to death?... No, dammit. I've got to stay positive... for Alice...<p>

"Hey _asshole_, are you even listenin' to me?!" She yells at me. At least she looks less frustrated this time, which I'm quite happy about. I don't need people who want to kill me on the inside of this house too.

"What?!" I blurt out.

She opens her mouth as if she's about to say something, but immediately closes it right after. She sighs and averts her eyes from me. "Have you made up a master plan to drag our arses outta 'ere yet?" She asks, not putting any effort in hiding her irritation.

"I might 've. There's a barn out there, we could make a run for it. Maybe there are horses in there or somethin'; a fuckin' cow for all I care. We could use that to get out of this damned place," I explain, ignoring the fact that she's relying on _me_ to solve our problems _again_, as if I chose to be 'the leader'.

"What if there's nothin' in there?" She questions, as if she read my mind when I was looking out of the window. I start to feel angry again. How dare she read my mind? But I quickly realise how stupid I am for thinking so.

"We'll be stuck in a cold, useless barn, but unless you've made up a masterplan _yourself_, it's the only option we've got," I reply mockingly.

She faces me again and rolls her eyes, "I was a bit busy helping a _dick_ getting _untangled_," she replies, with the "dick" being me and the "untangled" being my asthma attack.  
>"Where's this fucking barn of yours?" She asks as she pushes me aside to look through the window.<p>

If she weren't my sister I would've probably already punched her repeatedly before. But we were just on our own, now at least... Alice reminds me of her, of Jen. She, Alice and Martin resembled our mum completely. A small face, brown eyes and long, brown/blonde hair. While Gem and I resembled our dad. A somewhat longer face, light grey/green eyes and the same dark brown hair I used to get so fed up with in the mornings. If only I could borrow a time machine from someone, I'd kill for that eternal me versus my hair battle in exchange for this life. A life in which everyone but my good old twin sister, Alice, is the only person left beside me. And also the only Rayner since God knows how many minutes ago, it feels like an eternity anyway. Dammit, Jen... We were just supposed to go in, get some food and get back out unnoticed. Look what happened to that... Poor Jen, I should've been more careful. I should've made sure that the house was 100% clear. No, 160% clear. But that's too late now. I was too late. I couldn't protect her, just like I couldn't protect Martin, Gem, mum and dad. I bet this wasn't what they wanted their son to become, someone who can't protect his own family, or even himself for that matter.  
>"Tim," Alice interrupted my thoughts with the same old frustration from before, "where's the fucking barn?!"<br>I startle, but manage to get words out of my throat anyway. "To the right, next to that big, ol' tree," I reply nonchalantly.  
>"Once we're in there, we can't go back out. They'll make sure of that," she remarked.<br>"We've been over this before, we can't just walk out of here–"  
>"Obviously, yeah," she blurts out.<br>I bring my fists up slightly, but lower them soon after. Damn I want to punch her. "_Anyway_, what's it gonna be? You comin' or not?"  
>"Who's gotta save your ass otherwise?" She mocks. "Lead the way, jerk".<br>"Bitch," I reply, thinking about how we used to call each other that all the time. At least _something_ survived the apocalypse.  
>Suddenly, Alice's face shows a sign of sadness. "But what are we –" She purses her lips.<br>"We can't – We can't, Alice... She's gone," I remind her, gritting my teeth at the thought of my little sister's partially devoured corpse.  
>"I know," she looks away, but I already saw the tear that made its way from her right eye to her cheek, "let's just pack our stuff," she adds.<br>I nod in agreement, but first I need to go to the bathroom, to get rid of this wet shirt.

"I'm gonna check up on my back, first," I inform her before heading in. I shut the door and put my rucksack on the cupboard. There's a broken mirror above the sink, but it'll have to do. I cautiously take my soaked shirt off and lay it next to my rucksack. I look at myself in the mirror, a broken version of what used to be me. A filthy one too. Dirt is all over my face and I don't want to waste my water on trying to change that. I try to get the sink running, but it's already empty. I mutter "dammit" and rest my hands on the useful piece of furniture as if I'm going to throw up. I'm not going to, but I sure as Hell want to. Everything we've seen, it can't be good for us. Shooting Jen... It turned my stomach. I frown and purse my lips as I think of my actions. I step away from the sink and look in the mirror. I remark how much I've changed between when it started and now. I've grown a lot. I'm more of a man now, I guess. As if it matters, anything but a _dead _man's good. The growing and our unhealthy "diet" hasn't been rewarding to my weight either. If Mr. De Brandt would ask me how many ribs a human has now, I'd be able to personally count them for him this time. The air that used to curve my jeans below my pelvis made place for uhm... something different. I slightly turn around to face the mirror with my back, but I can't see much. I'd let Alice check it, but she's got better things to do now. My back throbs as I arch it, but that allows me to have a better look on it, so it's worth it – I hope my sore neck is too. It doesn't look that bad, just a couple of bruises. It's been worse. One time during Summer, it was really warm and we were toured around our school. We went to the hallway on the third floor, but all the classrooms to the left were located in the South and it was around noon so the temperature was peaking. Slowly but surely we made our way through the hallway, but I couldn't catch up anymore all of a sudden. The whole time we were there, I tried to hide the fact that I was on the brink of passing out, but I failed. I was trying to catch up on my friends, but I couldn't even see them anymore. Eventually I fell into this group of people in front of me, but some dude pushed me to the other side of the hallway (that's what my teacher saw me do at least, I was already unconscious) and I landed on a bit of the floor that stuck out; back first, directly on my tensed spine. If only we had to bring our rucksacks with us that time. I still have the scar on my back from when I fell. Well, scar; it's more like folded skin, but it still hurt... a lot. I gently stroke the scar, flashes of the past run through my brain. I chuckle at the thought of how I was worried that I could've broken my neck there if I'd landed on it. How the guy that pushed me would've committed manslaughter. It's crazy to think how worried we used to be, while we've got way more to worry about now... Every day could be our last one, sure that was the case before the apocalypse started too, but it's still different. What if we'd die in a stupid way, like earlier. What if we'd get struck by lightning, if Alice would get stung by a wasp – which she's highly allergic to –, or if we'd just get a cardiac arrest. That would be the biggest comedy of the year. Get it? Because they don't make comedies anymore... Even the apocalypse can't make me funny.

After my stupid joke, I grab a towel from the basket next to the shower and start drying myself with it. It's almost rotten, it's as hard as bricks on the ends; but I couldn't care less at the moment. If I don't dry myself, I'll die from hypothermia once I go out there. When I'm finished, I grab the spare shirt I always kept in my rucksack. It's a brown shirt with some – what used to be – blue text that I can't read, written on it. I knew that it would come in handy at some point and it even did – to my own surprise. I somehow look clean now, cleaner than before at least.  
>"Alice?" I ask, loud enough for her to hear me, but not loud enough for the roamers to hear.<br>"Hmmm?" She responds nonchalantly.  
>"Have you seen a plastic bag somewhere? Or jus' somethin' I can put my shirt in?"<br>"Yeah, I think I saw one in the kitchen. I'd uhm... I'd get it, but I'm quite busy now," she explains.  
>"Uhm... Okay, thanks," I reply. I wonder what she's so "busy" with, but I just brush it off and put my rucksack on before taking my wet shirt with me down the stairs. Every single step makes the wood crack and sends shivers down my spine, the ones you get when your fork rushes against your plate. This house must've been here for a <em>long<em> while. Once my torture ends, I open a door to the left, right next to what used to be a plant. It guides me into the living room, with an open kitchen attached to it. I move quietly, even though we closed the curtains when we came in. Groans and taps break the silence we had upstairs. We have to get out of here quickly. Slowly, I tiptoe my way to the kitchen. It's fairly large; a kitchen island in the middle of the room and cabinets, a sink and a dishwasher against the wall. I roll my eyes in disbelief at what Alice meant as the plastic bag she saw earlier. It's the kind of bag people put – or used to put – their trash in. I take the bag off of the hook it was dangling from and examine the inside. It's full of all kinds of empty containers: Canned beans, tuna tins, everything you can imagine. Even though I didn't like any of these before, just about anything's good now, as long as it fills my stomach. Growling coming from my belly seems to confirm that thought, for once my body and I agree to something. It's still the only useful thing in this whole damned house though, so I'll have to try to make the best of it. It's not necessarily _that _bad, once ignore the smell and the rotting tuna. Yuck. I quietly place all the items on the island, trying to not catch the roamers' attention, and put my wet shirt in the bag before stuffing it in my rucksack. I think I'm good to go, we already checked the house for food and there isn't really anything else lying around. Let me see one last time. I've got my kitchen knife in my boot, the cans of food I collected in my rucksack, gun without ammo in its holster and that stupid harmonica my mum gave me for my twelfth birthday in my rucksack too. Let's see what Alice's so "busy" with now.  
>I start my ordeal again as I go up the stairs. Crack after crack, until I reach the top.<br>"Alice, you done?" I ask. I would've just knocked on the door, but I don't know which one I should knock on. This house is huge, it has five rooms on the first floor alone; or second, whatever it is they call it here.  
>"Uh-huh, almost," she replies. It sounds like it came from the bedroom, the one Jen was shot in. What's she doing in there? I lower my brows in confusion and slightly open the door to the room.<br>"The Hell 're you doin' in –" I begin, but I can't finish my sentence before being shocked at what I'm witnessing. My frown from earlier takes place for widened eyes. I can't believe it... It's Alice, she's gutting the roamer I shot. "Alice, wha –"  
>"Be quiet, for God's sake," she shushes me, "you've noticed that they never go after their own, right?"<br>"Uhm... Y – Yeah, well, obviously," I stutter in shock.  
>"Exactly. Then they must be able to separate us from them, right?" She asks, although I have no idea how gutting a roamer's relevant to that.<br>"Yeah, I – I guess".  
>"I've been thinkin', it can't be the looks. I mean... Fresh roamers don't look too different from us, do they?" Alice explains, while I'm still standing in the doorway with my mouth open like a fool. "Hello? Earth to Tim?" She tries to draw my attention by snapping her fingers in front of my face. I'm startled by the sound, but I still manage to get some words out of my throat.<br>"... Uhm... Yeah. Not really, I guess?" I answer insecurely.  
>"We don't really sound that different either and to touch or taste us, they'd have to get up close. So..." She expects me to finish her sentence, but I honestly don't know what she's trying to say. After a while, she gets inpatient and finishes it anyway, "So... The only thing that's left is scent".<br>"Oh!" I exclaim in realisation. "That makes sense, yeah".  
>"See! And if we get their guts on us, we'll smell like them".<br>"Yuck," I exclaim, thinking about the rotten flesh we'll have to spread over our bodies.  
>"Don't be such a damn pussy, Tim!" She mocks as she throws a part of the roamer's colon at my torso.<br>"Seriously?!"  
>"Start rubbin', pretty girl," she commands and regrettably, I do what she says, but not before putting my jumpers and coat back on. I try to cover every centimetre of my body with its intestine, hoping that Alice's plan will work. It was good to be clean for at least 10 minutes. I feel like throwing up, but my stomach doesn't have anything to reject anymore. I gag once in a while, but get used to the smell. This better work...<br>Alice had lain Jen's corpse on the bed before I entered the room. I try to avoid looking at it, but I can't. Alice sees me staring at _it _and purses her lips.  
>"We should block the door," she states, "otherwise they'll find her".<br>"Yeah... I guess we should".  
>After making ourselves dirty, we drag the roamer out of the bedroom and push a cupboard in front of the door; creating some sort of mausoleum for Jen, a shitty one that is.<br>"Be ready, they've probably heard that," Alice remarks.  
>"I'll go up front," I state while taking my knife out of my shoe.<br>"All business up front, party in the back". I roll my eyes at her, but my face straightens soon after. This might be the last comeback I'll ever hear from her if her theory isn't correct after all.  
>"Ready?" I ask one last time.<br>"Bring it on. Jus' act cool, act like you're one of them," she replies. I nod and slowly go down the stairs, with Alice right behind me. Adrenaline runs through my veins as I hear a loud crack, but it isn't the stairs this time. A couple of steps lower, I spot a broken window. One of them tries to get through it and more follow after him. Everything I've ever been taught tells me to run and hide, but I can't, I have to keep going. Suddenly, the front door gives up too and a dozen of roamers make their way inside.  
>"Try the back," Alice whispers in my ear before reaching the end of the stairs. This is it, if this doesn't work, we'll find out soon. We try to stick close to the walls, slowly manoeuvring to the back door. They stare at us for a while, but they don't attack us. I feel like letting out the biggest sigh the world has ever heard, but I've got to stay quiet. I look at Alice one last time before opening the back door, there's no going back now. She nods and I cautiously turn the handle, producing as good as no sound. The cold wind stings, as if it's carving pieces out of my face until it's nothing but bone and blood. I see the roamer with the disjointed fingers again, there's about ten others accompanying him now. Once they get it, we'll be long gone, that's the plan at least. His little gang isn't the only one out there, the whole property is full of roamers; although right now, the wind is our biggest concern. I try to reduce the pain I'm experiencing by covering my face with the hood of my sweater, everything but my eyes. It doesn't help much, but Alice seems to be mimicking my actions, so it must be doing <em>some<em> good. Step by step we're getting closer to the barn, but halfway through I hear a "bang" right behind me. I anxiously look back, only to see Alice lying down on the ground with a pool of ice underneath her. I reach my hand out to pull her up and spot that we drew all of Georgia's attention.  
>"Shit! Come on, Alice!" I command as I pull her up.<br>The roamers stumble to us from all possible directions, eager to feast on our flesh.  
>"Fuck that shit piece of ice!" Alice exclaims.<br>We run the air out of our lungs – which in my case is pretty easy –, but they're slowed down by the snow and cold anyway, so we make it to the barn relatively unharmed.  
>"What're you waiting for?! Open it!" Alice shouts as I try to open the barn, but I can't get the door to open.<br>"It's stuck or frozen! I can't open it from the outside!" I yell back at her.  
>"The ladder! Quickly!" She commands in a hurry, pointing at the metal structure. Please, just let there be at least <em>something<em> useful in there! The rusty ladder stings in the small cuts on my hand, but I don't care, I just want to get out of this place – alive, preferably. I wait for Alice to drag herself over the edge and follow her directly afterwards.  
>"Fuck, yeah!" Alice exclaims. I look down to see what she's so excited about and feel like shouting too when I see it. Horses! We climbed down yet another ladder to get to the ground.<br>"Jus' pick one out and put a saddle on it!" I command Alice. Some of the horses were already dead, starved to death probably; the poor things. I rush over to one of the living ones and quickly look at the name tag on the side. "Paul" it says. Paul, the brown horse with a white spot on its head. When I open the fence, I spot something else sitting on a chair next to him. A man, not a roamer, but not alive either. Judging by his clothes, he used to own this place. A rifle dangled on his knee. He probably committed suicide and not too long ago, he still looks 'fresh'. He startled me at first, but now the only thing I can think about is Paul.  
>"Please, jus' don't stagger, boy," I plea as I put a saddle on his back. He's a bit nervous, but who wouldn't be if there were dozens of roamers knocking at your door. I bring him to the side door of the barn, which doesn't seem to be stuck.<br>"You ready?" I ask Alice as she comes to the door too.  
>"No, but does it matter?" She replies.<br>"Not one bit. Help me open this," I command, putting my hand on one of the handles, holding Paul with the other. "When this thing opens, you get on your horse and ride, okay?"  
>"Jus' get this over with already!" She yells out of anxiety. She probably didn't mean to, but I can't blame her. We're all scared; me, her, Paul.<br>"On three. One, two, three!" I say before pulling the handle and pushing the door open. "Arghhh, this shit's heavy!" Alice and I exclaim. Once the door's open, I turn to face Paul again and clumsily climb on the saddle. He was obviously too tall for me – even though Belgians are generally taller than Americans due to living closer to the North Pole and all –, but it's not like we could be picky right now. Alice has some problems getting on her ride too, but manages to anyway. I don't know what's going on the next couple of minutes, we're just... riding, getting out of that God forsaken place. After what looked like eternity, we slow down next to a road with abandoned cars on it. We get off of our horses and let them loose. We don't even have enough food to keep ourselves fed, let alone two full-grown horses. We get inside an old lorry and stay quiet for a while, we're both really tired and we should sleep, but we don't. After a while, Alice breaks the ice.  
>"Tim?" She asks quietly.<p>

"Yeah?" I mutter, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Do you think we're safe now?" She asks the question I didn't want to think about. The question you don't know the answer to. The question you _can't _ know the answer to.

"For now, I guess... But, to be fair, the time of being safe is long gone," I try to answer as well as possible. Both of us remain silent again and eventually, we fall asleep in our horribly uncomfortable seats.  
>We wake up around noon, that's if I haven't lost track of the South at least. Even though it was freezing last night, we still managed to get some sleep, some <em>necessary<em> sleep. I keep myself low, looking in all the mirrors. Luckily, it seems pretty clear. I grab a can opener from my rucksack and look through the assortment of canned food we've got. Peaches, oatmeal, beans; we should open our own grocery store. I chuckle at the thought of '_Rayner's Contayners_', but it appears that I've woken the other half up during my moment of happiness.  
>"What's so funny?" She yawns, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.<br>"Nothin', inside pleasure. It's stupid," I explain.  
>"Well, amuse me, baby brother," she mocks. That 14 minute difference means the world to her.<br>"Rayner's Contayners," I say as I hand her a can of oatmeal and the can opener.  
>A tiny smirk appears on her face, one that I haven't seen in a <em>long<em> time. "You're right, it _is_ stupid".  
>"Warned ya," I reply in jest as she opens the can. The smile on her face disappears as she notices what I just gave her.<br>"Ewww, seriously? Anything but this," she moans in disgust. She purses her lips and shakes her head, returning the can to me.  
>"What are you, ten?" I scoff, giving myself a helping of oatmeal. "Food is food," I tell myself as I put the untasteful brunch into my mouth. "Be glad that we found something not-spoiled, for a change".<br>"How about n–" She tries to say, but gets interrupted by a knock on the window on her side.

"Excuse me, do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ?" A posh voice asks. Alice startles and peeks through the window, while I look in the mirrors. _Clear_. Whoever's here, he's on his own.

"Stay where you are!" I bark at the stranger. Suddenly, he steps in front of the window, giving us the opportunity to examine him. The voice belonged to an African-American man, a priest even. He must be freezing, he's only wearing his pastor clothes.

"I do not intend to harm you, children of the Lord. Are you alone? Do you have any kind of shelter?" He asks. Normally, we'd run if we'd see any signs of humans in the area; but now, we can't.  
>"Asks who?" Alice questions with an tone of irritation in her voice.<br>"I'm Father Gabriel. I own a church nearby. I can offer you shelter and food, it's not too far from here," he tries to persuade us. I give Alice a questioning look, I have no idea what to do; but Alice looks just as clueless as me.  
>"Are <em>you<em> alone, Father?" I try to gain more information, God knows what we're getting ourselves into.

"Yes, my child, just me and my faith," he answers, causing Alice to chuckle.  
>"Uhm, forgive her, Father. Did you say that you have food?" I try to make it less awkward than it already is.<br>"Food, water, beds; everything necessary to survive".

"I'm sold," Alice exclaims. He does have two important things, we don't have: water and beds; and it seems like Alice has already made up her mind... In the end, I can't do anything but accept Father Gabriel's offer.

"Hmmm, okay then. Lead the way, Father".

Alice and I grab our rucksacks and get out of the car, where the reverend's waiting for us. We just follow him in silence; past forests covered in snow, destroyed houses, abandoned cars, train tracks even... Until we arrive at some kind of town. "Welcome to Forsyth" a road sign says, wherever Forsyth may be. I don't even know if we're outside of Georgia yet. We're just... moving. Moving to a place that seems safe, but it never is, nothing stays safe. Afterwards we move again, to another so-called "safe" place.  
>"Uhm, Father, why aren't there any roamers here?" Alice asks out of a sudden. I noticed that it was quiet too, but I never thought too much about it. I just enjoyed the silence, not having to run all the time. It was a welcome change.<br>"Roamers?" Father Gabriel replies with a confused look on his face.

"Yeah, uhm... We call them roamers. We thought that it was a good name because they just... roam around," I explain.

"Ah, them... Well, there's this group of people – mercenaries you could say – served in the military, who cleanse this place in exchange of food. I wouldn't upset them too much, they're quite hot-headed. As long as you don't cause any trouble, you should be fine. You see my children, this apocalyptic period is just an era of salvation. The Earth gets cleansed from the monsters we became and now we have a chance to forget our mistakes and start from scratch. In the end, we were only as bad as those 'roamers' out there," he explains. Maybe he's right, maybe it is an era of salvation. Some kind of big "cleansing" trick. Whatever it is, it's fucking bullshit, I know _that_.

We arrive at the church half an hour later. It's really large, way bigger than most Belgian ones. It looks more like some kind of mansion, a mansion with a children playground in the front yard. Father Gabriel guides us inside, through a huge door. We end up in some kind of coffee area where the reverend hands us some proper food, tomato soup, something Alice actually likes. We shove spoons full of soup into our mouths, gobbling as if we haven't eaten in days, which is partially true when I think about it. Eventually, we ease up a bit, eating too quickly wouldn't be good for our stomachs and the last thing we want to do now is throw up the food we've just eaten; we also don't want to look too barbaric in the generous pastor's eyes. Meanwhile, Alice has grown curious.

"So, Father, how did you end up here? How come you're still alone, with so much food lying around?" She asks.

"When it all started, I was here alone. It was late at night when I first heard of everything. I got scared and locked myself up, just to be safe. The next morning, they started coming. Neighbours, friends, ... members of my congregation, ... Not many at first, then more as the days went on. They wanted a safe place to stay – a sanctuary. I turned them all away. I only had so much food. I needed to be sure I could survive long enough to be rescued. I couldn't have those people in, I'd starve. I chose my life over theirs. Most of them stayed outside the church, yelling, screaming for me to let them in. They never left, they didn't stop, until the dead came in. Woman, ...children, ...entire families. I heard their screams of agony as they were torn apart... Some of them calling out my name – damning me to hell. I know what I did. I know what I deserve. That's why I go around and preach now, I want to give the homeless shelter and the people who're starving food. God told me to do this to make up for my sins".


End file.
